


It Was Love at First Sight

by takingovermidnight



Category: Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-01-20 14:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takingovermidnight/pseuds/takingovermidnight
Summary: Dunbar notices that Yossarian is madly in love with the chaplain, and persuades him to ask the chaplain on a date. This work includes made up scenes about their relationship interwoven with canonical events from the book.
Relationships: Robert Oliver Shipman | Albert Taylor Tappman/John Yossarian
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38





	1. The Texan

“A chaplain,” Dunbar said when the chaplain had visited him and gone. “Did you see that? A chaplain.”

“Wasn’t he sweet?” said Yossarian. “Maybe they should give him three votes.”

“Who’s they?” Dunbar demanded suspiciously.

“You know,” Yossarian answered with a stupid smile spread across his face, “the people who give out the votes.”

“I see what this is,” Dunbar teased knowingly. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“The chaplain? Me? In love with him? No. You’re crazy,” Yossarian responded, still grinning like a fool.

“No, you’re crazy! You got all crazy the moment that chaplain walked into this ward. You’re madly in love with him. Admit it!”

“I can’t admit to something that isn’t true.”

“Then maybe I misread it then. Actually, come to think of it, I think it was the chaplain who was madly in love with you.”

Yossarian sat up like a shot and beamed, “Really? You think?”

“No, but I did think that you were head over heels for him, and you just proved me right,” Dunbar answered with a satisfied grin.

Yossarian laid back in his bed and let out a defeated huff. “What does it matter to you then?”

“My friend just fell in love. It matters everything to me. After all as your good friend, it's my job to get the two of you talking.”

“I just talked to him plenty.”

“Sure, but it’s my job to get you talking to him romantically. You aren’t making any progress by talking to him about Nately. Next time he comes around, you need to ask him out on a date.”

“You really are crazy! They should send you to the other wards where they keep all those mental cases.”

“Who’s they?”

“The people in charge of sending men to those other wards.”

“But they keep the mental cases in those other wards. I’m not insane.”

“Yes you are!”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because you want me to ask the chaplain out on a date!”

“And how is that crazy? You’re the one who’s in love with him. Why wouldn’t you ask him out on a date?”

Yossarian was stumped. Dunbar seemed to have a pretty good point. Why wouldn’t he ask the chaplain out on a date? He was in love with him after all, and when you’re in love with someone you’re supposed to ask them out on a date. Yossarian replied stubbornly, “Well, maybe I will ask him out on a date then.”

“It's the only thing to do,” Dunbar agreed.

The following day, the chaplain came back to the medical ward and visited Yossarian again as per Yossarian’s request. “How are you feeling?” The chaplain asked, taking a seat in that same chair next to Yossarian’s hospital bed just the way he had the day before.

“Pretty good. Even better than yesterday,” Yossarian replied, glowing with affection.

The chaplain smiled. “You look better too.”

“I think I’m almost ready to come out of the hospital.”

“That’s good,” said the chaplain, nodding his head.

"Yes that is good," Yossarian agreed mirroring the chaplain’s head nod.

“I know you wanted me to come around and visit you again. Is there anything that I can get for you this time?”

“No, I don’t need you to get anything, but there is something that I was wondering if you could do for me.”

“That depends. What is it that you want me to do?”

“When I get out of the hospital, I’d like you to go on a date with me. You can choose where it is and what we do. I’m really not high maintenance.”

“Oh,” the chaplain responded in a loss for words. His face noticeably grew red as he tried to speak, but only managed to stutter a string of “ums” and “uhs.”

“Is something wrong?” Yossarian asked, worriedly.

“No. No,” the chaplain affirmed both to Yossarian and to himself. “I’m… uh… flattered. Really, I am, but, you see, I have a wife.”

“Oh. I didn’t know a chaplain could have a wife.”

“Well, I’m not Catholic. I’m Anabaptist, so I’m allowed to have a wife.”

Bearing witness to the disintegration of the conversation, Dunbar called over for the chaplain, faking some immediate need for a prayer for healing or some other hogwash. 

“Do you mind if I go over to lieutenant Dunbar?”

“No I don’t mind,” Yossarian answered.

“Would you like me to come around again some other time? I really can understand if I make you feel uncomfortable, so you can say no. I’m really not offended if you do.”

“No you don’t make me uncomfortable. I would like it very much to see you again some other time.”

“That’s good. Well, I should go attend to lieutenant Dunbar now. Hopefully I’ll see you outside of the medical ward soon, Yossarian.”

“Hopefully you will,” Yossarian answered bitter-sweetly.

The chaplain and Dunbar spoke briefly, and the chaplain made his way out of the medical ward with very little haste. Yossarian’s inquiry was undoubtedly the root cause for the man’s swift exit. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have asked him,” Yossarian said when the chaplain had made his escape. “I shouldn’t have listened to you when you told me to ask him.”

“It's better to ask than to assume.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Dunbar just shrugged his shoulders in response.

With no date to look forward to, Yossarian no longer saw an incentive to check out of the hospital. In fact, he was pretty content with where he was and concluded that he would stay right in his hospital bed until the war had either come to an end or until Colonel Cathcart got tired of having him around and sent him home, whichever came first. That was until the Texan had woken from a nap and decided to begin speaking again, not closing his mouth until the late hours of the night long after every man in the ward had wished to be asleep. The following morning, Yossarian, Dunbar, and the rest of the men in the ward who were also faking illnesses and injuries all left the hospital.


	2. The Chaplain

The Chaplain had almost as much trouble keeping track of his status at the officers’ club as he did remembering at which of the ten mess halls in the group he was scheduled to eat his next meal. He would just have soon remained kicked out of the officers’ club, had it not been for the pleasure he was finding there with his new companions. If the chaplain did not go to the officers’ club at night, there was no place else he could go. He would pass time at Yossarian’s and Dunbar’s table with a shy reticent smile, seldom speaking unless addressed, a glass of sweet wine almost untasted before him as he toyed unfamiliarly with the tiny corncob pipe that he affected self-consciously and occasionally stuffed with tobacco and smoked. He enjoyed listening to Nately, whose maudlin, bittersweet lamentations mirrored much of his own romantic desolation and never failed to evoke in him resurgent tides of longing for his wife and children.

Although he was comfortable at the table with his new companions and enjoyed listening to their conversations greatly, the chaplain still knew better than to join those conversations without an invitation, which most times, he never received. At times, he went so unnoticed it felt as though he wasn’t even at the table with the others at all. Even Nately, whose stories he understood so intimately, hardly conversed with him. He was so caught up in his sympathy for Nately’s lamentations and his personal desire to reunite with his family, that he failed to notice Yossarian staring at him longingly each time Nately sorrowed over his unrequited love.

The only time that the chaplain did notice Yossarian’s attention to him was when Yossarian argued on his behalf. Whenever Colonel Cathcart came into the officer’s club, he always noticed the chaplain, and every time he noticed the chaplain, he demanded that the chaplain leave and never return. Each time Cathcart tried to kick him out, Yossarian gently told the chaplain to stay right where he was, and then went over to confront Cathcart for him. Yossarian was more often than not successful, and the chaplain was able to stay in the officers’ club with his friends. He was grateful for that. He was grateful for Yossarian.

But despite his gratitude, the chaplain still never understood why Yossarian was always so quick to stand up for him like that for seemingly no reason at all. Nothing about Yossarian really made sense to him. He felt a deep connection to the man from the very moment they’d met, but could not for the life of him explain why. It only worsened when Yossarian had offered to take him on that date because that could only have meant that Yossarian had felt a connection to him as well. The connection that they had, did that mean they were soulmates? The chaplain didn’t think he believed in such a thing. There really wasn’t much about the topic in the bible. And even if they really were soulmates and soulmates really were real, he didn’t love Yossarian. He loved his wife and kids, and that was all. Yossarian was too sporadic and too unpredictable and too  _ a man  _ for him to love after all.

One night in the officers’ club Yossarian decided to actually talk to the chaplain after successfully defending him against Colonel Cathcart trying to evict him. The conversation was unexpected, but welcomed nonetheless. As Dunbar led the rest of the group off to play pool, the chaplain and Yossarian remained so entrenched in whatever it was that they were talking about that they did not notice that their friends had left them behind.

“You didn’t drink any of your wine,” Yossarian noted, gesturing towards the chaplain’s still-full glass.

“I’m really not much of a drinker. You can have it if you’d like.”

Yossarian smiled warmly. “If you insist,” he said, reaching out and moving the glass in front of him, fumbling with it and nearly spilling it over.

“On second thought, you may have had enough to drink tonight,” the chaplain laughed.

“I’m not drunk, just clumsy.”

“I don’t think Nately would agree with that assessment. I know he’s always looking out and making sure you don’t get drunk and do anything stupid. If I allow you to, I know he’ll get mad at me.”

“I never do anything stupid. Screw what Nately has to say about it.”

“Even starting a fight with Colonel Korn over a what was it, a ‘Lepage Glue Gun?’ You didn’t do that? Or did you think doing that was a smart thing to do?” 

“How did you find out about that? You never even came to officers’ club back then. Why, that was before we had even met!”

“And before you asked me out on a date.”

If Yossarian wasn’t already red with embarrassment before when the chaplain had brought up the Lepage Glue Gun, he most certainly was now that the chaplain had brought up that time in the hospital. “Why do you,” he asked bashfully, stumbling on his words, “find it so entertaining to bring up every embarrassing thing I’ve ever done?”

“Because you asked me out on a date,” the chaplain teased. “Do you expect me to let you live that down?”

“I would like you to! You know, for a chaplain you’re pretty unforgiving.”

Yossarian and the chaplain spoke of silly matters and teased each other for the whole rest of the night. While Yossarian got drunk off of the wine, the chaplain got drunk off of Yossarian. By the time their friends had come back over to take them home, their conversation must have sounded insane. 

“Oh God, how much did you let him drink?” Nately asked the chaplain upon seeing Yossarian laughing at absolutely nothing just like a madman would.

“There is no God,” Dunbar interjected calmly before the chaplain had a chance to answer.

“Dunbar!” Yossarian gasped. “You can’t say that in front of a chaplain!”

“He’s alright Nately, he really is,” the chaplain responded. “He was just talking to me all night. He didn’t do anything that could get him in trouble.”

“Still, we should probably get him back to his tent before he does.”

The group all piled into McWatt’s car. Nately sat up front so that he could reach over and flick back on the headlights each time that McWatt would try to turn them off. Dunbar, Yossarian, and the chaplain all squeezed in the back.

“McWatt! Stop turning off the headlights!” Nately yelled reaching over to turn the headlights back on.

“But Chief White Halfoat said it was better to drive without headlights.”

“Who cares what he thinks? He also thinks that it's good to die of pneumonia.” 

“Better to die of pneumonia than it is to die flying missions.”

“I’ll drink to that!”

Just as Dunbar opened his flask and began to drink, McWatt turned off the headlights again and Nately tried to reach back over him, but was too late. “Oh my god!” Yossarian cried, clutching onto the chaplain sitting next to him as McWatt swerved into a tree.

“There is no God,” Dunbar stoically replied as the car came to a stop.

“Dunbar!” Yossarian gasped again. “You can’t say that in front of a chaplain!”


	3. Dunbar

The chaplain worried about Dunbar and brooded more over Yossarian now that Orr was gone. To the chaplain, who lived by himself in a spacious tent whose pointy top sealed him in gloomy solitude each night like the cap of a tomb, it seemed incredible that Yossarian really preferred living alone and wanted no roommates.

Unlike Yossarian, the chaplain was really terrible with loneliness, and he hated that he was forced to deal with it on such a regular basis. He lamented over not having any friends in the war, real ones anyway. He had Yossarian and Dunbar and even Nately and McWatt, but, as friendly as they all were, they were not really his true friends. He would never connect with them the way that they all connected with each other, and he couldn’t help but feel that whenever he came around he was burdening them, despite Yossarian’s incessant assurance that he was not. Out of everyone on Pianosa, he felt most comfortable around Yossarian, and he didn’t even feel that comfortable around him. After all, Yossarian was an enigma, and even after toiling over the mystery of Yossarian for what felt like ages, he could not for the life of him understand why the man made him feel so strange. It wasn’t déjà vu, but that was the only way he could describe it. It was like he’d known Yossarian in another life or something; it was weird.

“I’m sorry about Dunbar,” Yossarian said to the chaplain one night after Dunbar had left his friends in the officers’ club to go back to his squadron. “He’s upset that they made us bomb a village.” Ever since that mission, Dunbar’s demeanor had become cold and callous. He no longer laughed and would snarl at high ranking officers whenever they were nearby. He would say terrible, profane things to his friends and even in front of the chaplain. Nately was mortified by such blatant rudeness, and even Yossarian could not help but cringe at Dunbar’s behavior.

“It’s alright. I just feel bad for him. It’s not his fault the war’s gotten to his head,” the chaplain replied. Feeling that he needed to apologize to Yossarian as well, he added, “I’m sorry about Orr.”

At the mention of his old roommate, Yossarian let out a long sigh. “It’s been a long time coming. He crashed his plane every time he flew it. It was only a matter of time.”

“It’s still unfortunate.”

“Yes, I guess it is. At least I get my tent to myself, though. It’s been nice having a place to myself. Now I know how you feel,” Yossarian let out a dry laugh after saying that last part, but the chaplain did not laugh along.

“Living alone isn’t as fun as you think. It gets rather lonely sometimes.”

“I guess some people are just better with loneliness than others.”

As Dunbar started growing increasingly bitter, the group stopped meeting at the officers’ club the way they used to. Circumstances changed, and everyone seemed to be moving on with their own lives, independent of the group. With no more group to sit with at the officers’ club, the chaplain found himself lonelier than ever. The only thing that saved him from being truly alone was Yossarian inviting him to come over and pass the time his tent.

Because Yossarian no longer had a roommate, the chaplain found himself hanging out around Yossarian’s tent more and more frequently. It came to a point where he would show up at Yossarian’s tent unannounced and without an invite. Yossarian did not seem to mind all too much, so the chaplain figured it was alright. Despite the fact that Yossarian was so confusing to him, the chaplain found that spending time with Yossarian was the most enjoyable way to combat his loneliness. At least with Yossarian nothing was awkward, and the two could talk for long periods of time without falling into a dreadful silence. Even when they did fall into silence, it didn’t feel dreadful. The chaplain would sit on one of the empty beds as Yossarian would stand up and go over to fiddle one of the many appliances Orr had installed in the tent. Then, soon enough, Yossarian would begin to complain about how Orr would tinker with all the perfectly good machines, seemingly just to drive him crazy. “If only he’d drove me crazy enough to get me sent home,” Yossarian wisecracked one day.

“Since he’s not here to do it anymore, I guess I’ll just have to drive you crazy then,” the chaplain replied. “Maybe I should start taking all these appliances apart and putting them back together.”

Yossarian smiled, and looked over at the chaplain. “Believe me. You drive me crazy enough as it is, even without breaking my heater.”

“Anything to help you get sent home. If I can’t convince Cathcart to stop raising the missions, the least I can do is make you too crazy to be able to fly them.”

“If only being crazy would actually work. If it really did, I would have been sent on my merry way the day we met.”

Although it was obvious that Yossarian was joking, the chaplain could not help but feel genuinely guilty. “Oh, I’m really that bad?” he asked, his voice quivering ever so softly.

“Who said that driving me crazy was a bad thing? I happen to think it’s pretty good.”

“But that’s just because you want to get sent home.”

“No, it’s not. No matter how crazy I get, they won’t send me home. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve done, and I’m still here. The reason I like when you make me crazy is because it's fun.” 

Yossarian also drove the chaplain crazy, but he did not find it fun whatsoever. In fact, he found it rather disquieting. He kept that to himself though because, as crazy as Yossarian was, he was good company, and for that the chaplain was very grateful.

“How is being driven crazy fun?”

“It isn’t. It’s only fun because it’s you.”

The chaplain laughed, “You’re not making any sense.” But Yossarian was making perfect sense, and that was why the chaplain refused to comprehend what he was saying. 

Yossarian only smiled and replied, “Of course I’m not making sense. I’m crazy.”


	4. Yo-Yo's New Roommates

Yossarian was warm when the cold weather came because of Orr’s marvelous stove, and he might have existed in his warm tent quite comfortably if not for the memory of Orr, and if not for the gang of animated roommates that came swarming inside rapaciously one day from the two full combat crews Colonel Cathcart had requisitioned—and obtained within forty-eight hours—as replacements for Kid Sampson and McWatt. Yossarian emitted a long, loud, croaking gasp of protest when he trudged in tiredly after a mission and found them already there.

He complained about the new roommates to just about everybody he encountered. First, he went to Major Danby and pleaded for his room back for just him and the dead man, but to no avail. All Danby told him to do was to move in with Nately, but Yossarian could not bring himself to replace McWatt. There was just something about that seemed disrespectful because then he would be no better than his new roommates coming in and replacing Orr and the dead man Mudd.

When talking to Major Danby became redundant, Yossarian went on to voice his predicament to his friends, but they were not all too helpful. Dunbar was too consumed in his own self-pity to care, and all Nately offered was for Yossarian to move in with him. McWatt could not even listen to Yossarian’s complaints because he was too busy being dead. Yossarian was truly at a loss, and it seemed to him like there was no way out of the situation that he had unwillingly been thrust into.

The new roommates also meant that nurse Duckett could no longer come around at night and sleep with him. It had become too cold for them to meet up out on the beach, so, for the duration of the winter, Yossarian would have to spend his nights on Pianosa alone.

The worst time, however, was the day. During the day his new roommates felt it necessary to invite all of their friends over to the tent to bask in the heat of Orr’s stove during all those cold winter days. There was hardly any room for Yossarian to move around, and the large group of young men was loud and rowdy. They never once stopped to consider how their presence may have affected Yossarian. He also hated having all those young men around because they had driven the chaplain, whom Yossarian had longed for ever so tragically, away from his tent.

One time, before he knew about Yossarian’s new living situation, the chaplain had stopped by the tent, and walked in to see Yossarian laying in his bed, just trying to read (look at pictures of women in) a magazine. Such was Yossarian’s typical routine, however, on that day Yossarian was not alone. Instead, he was surrounded by a sea of rambunctious young men drinking cans of beer and having normal, even mundane, conversations at unnecessarily loud volumes. When the young men noticed the chaplain standing in the doorway, they proceeded to throw their beer cans at him. None of the men in the tent had any personal vendetta against the chaplain; they just picked on him because they knew that Colonel Cathcart did not like him, so they believed taunting the poor chaplain was something that they were required to do. Needless to say, the chaplain’s face went white as a ghost, and Yossarian had to gently usher him out of the tent before the men could tantalize him any further.

“I’m really sorry about them,” Yossarian began as he and the chaplain started walking away from the warzone that had become of Yossarian’s tent. “My new roommates and their friends, they’re all sorts of horrible. I want them gone more than anything really.”

“Don’t worry so much,” the chaplain replied. “None of it’s got anything to do with you.”

“I mean it though. I can’t stand them. I’d do just about anything to be rid of them.”

"Did you try asking to move somewhere else?"

“No, I tried asking to have them taken out of my tent, but Major Danby told me the only thing he can do is move me into McWatt’s old place with Nately, but I’m not taking a dead man’s spot. If I do that I’m no better than my damn roommates.”

The chaplain nodded in understanding, even though he really could not come to understand Yossarian’s logic. After all, he had given up on trying to understand the inner machinations of Yossarian’s mind long ago, instead opting to enjoy Yossarian for who he was without thinking too deeply into it.

“I didn’t take you for one of those crazy Christians, Yo-Yo,” a roommate, whose name Yossarian did not even want to know said when Yossarian had come back to the tent after walking the chaplain home.

“I’m not. I don’t even believe in God, and if I ever do believe in God, it’s just because I think he’s a jerk.”

“Then why are you always hanging around that chaplain?” Another roommate chimed in.

Another thing that Yossarian did not care for when it came to his new roommates was their incessant prying into his own personal business. They asked him about what he did whenever he went out and did something, why he went to the places that he went, and why he spent time with the people that he spent time with. Then, when he refused to indulge their interrogations, they got offended and whispered amongst themselves about how rude he was. To add insult to injury, they called him Yo-Yo, as though they were chummy with him. In reality though, they were nowhere near chummy with him, for they did not know him at all. 

As per usual, Yossarian ignored the question. He would have ignored it regardless of who it was about, but he ignored this question especially because it was about the chaplain. The only people who knew why he hung around the chaplain so much were Dunbar and the chaplain himself, although at times the chaplain seemed to be rather oblivious.

As per usual, the roommates whispered about how rude Yossarian was being for not giving into their pestering him, and Yossarian laid back in his bed and pretended that he was somewhere else, somewhere far away from his new roommates.


	5. Milo

The chaplain's voice floated up to him through the distance tenuously in an unintelligible, almost inaudible monotone, like a gaseous murmur. Yossarian could make out Major Major by his towering and lanky aloofness and thought he recognized Major Danby mopping his brow with a handkerchief. Major Danby had not stopped shaking since his run-in with General Dreedle. There were strands of enlisted men molded in a curve around the three officers, as inflexible as lumps of wood, and four idle gravediggers in streaked fatigues lounging indifferently on spades near the shocking, incongruous heap of loose copperred earth. As Yossarian stared, the chaplain elevated his gaze toward Yossarian beatifically, pressed his fingers down over his eyeballs in a manner of affliction, peered upward again toward Yossarian searchingly, and bowed his head, concluding what Yossarian took to be a climactic part of the funeral rite.

And at that moment, it was love at first sight. The first time Yossarian saw the chaplain he fell madly in love with him. It was only after he had received that life-altering look that Yossarian was able to put his uniform back on and go back to flying missions. It was only after he had been endowed with such an overwhelming feeling of amorous devotion that Yossarian could find his reason to carry on as he had before Snowden had been killed, before colonel Cathcart had sent the young tail gunner to die, and before Yossarian had been unable to save him. With the chaplain’s gaze, Yossarian’s will to carry on loosely complying with the military’s rules and requirements had, if only briefly, been renewed.

But the chaplain did not reciprocate that feeling. That intense, wild, insane, inexplicable love, which could only be defined as the feeling that overcomes a man when he first lays eyes upon his soulmate. 

Instead, the chaplain could only entertain Yossarian as an acquaintance. Yossarian tried his best to be grateful for that relationship, even though he was very well aware that it had spawned out of pity. However, at times he felt as though being the chaplain’s friend was harder on his heart than it would be if they were complete strangers. As much as Yossarian enjoyed spending time with the chaplain, he couldn't help but feel the bittersweetness beneath every interaction that the two of them had shared. It was a cruel trap, having love at his fingertips, but never being able to grasp it in his hand.

With the recent disappearance of Dunbar and the death of Nately marking the end of Yossarian’s war-time friendships, the hope of potential love seemed to be the only thing that Yossarian had left to cling onto. However, the target of his affection was perhaps the most elusive man on earth, leaving Yossarian with absolutely nothing at all.

The only thing he did have were missions to fly. He no longer had any true friends—Nately had marked the last of them to die. He no longer had any roommates that did not treat him like an invader, despite the fact that he had lived in the tent long before any of them had. After having gotten himself messed up in two failed romances—between Luciana for whom he had fallen so hard over in Rome and the chaplain whom he still could not let go of in Pianosa—he no longer had anyone that he cared to fall in love with. So, with little regard for the consequences, Yossarian refused to fly any more missions. He had nothing to lose by not flying them, and his life to lose if he did, so it only seemed logical to abstain from flight for as long as he possibly could until his hand was forced one way or another.

Yossarian didn’t know what would be done to him when the higher-ups caught on that he was refusing to fly his missions, but he supposed that whatever their reaction would be, it would be worth the blissful feeling of no longer having the burden of dying upon his shoulders. In fact, his decision to stop flying, regardless of how afraid it made him feel, was also the only thing that truly made him feel good. 

Nothing else, he decided, made him feel good, not even the idea of falling in love, so, from that point, Yossarian decided he would no longer be in love with the chaplain. He would no longer love anything or anyone, for there was no point to it. Instead, he would simply sit back and bask in the sweet feeling of tranquility that came from his own rebellion.


	6. The Cellar

“That handwriting is mine,” the chaplain maintained, pointing down at the paper that the officers had made him sign. “Where else is my handwriting, if that isn’t it?”

“Right here,” answered the colonel. And looking very superior, he tossed down on the table a photostatic copy of a piece of V mail in which everything but the salutation “Dear Mary” had been blocked out and on which the censoring officer had written, “I long for you tragically. A.T. Tappman, Chaplain, U.S. Army.” The colonel smiled scornfully as he watched the chaplain’s face turn crimson. “Well, Chaplain? Do you know who wrote that?”

The chaplain took a long moment to reply; he had recognized Yossarian’s handwriting. “No.”

“Do you not long for your wife tragically then? Or is it simply that the censoring officer longs for you?” the colonel jeered.

The chaplain hated that he knew the answer to that question, and he hated even more that he would have to lie his way around letting that answer slip. He quickly got over his fear of dishonesty though, for Yossarian was his good friend. Yossarian was the only person he had left, so for Yossarian he would have to lie. “I don’t know. It wasn’t me.”

He felt the colonel’s gaze burning a hole through his conscience, and the colonel’s mocking laugh sent shivers down his spine. “Well then I suppose this Washington Irving is just in love with you then,” the colonel replied mockingly.

‘He is,’ the chaplain could have responded, but he refrained. As he came to understand the colonel’s interpretation of Yossarian’s little message, his heart started to race and his stomach began to cramp up. His already crimson face was on track to become purple as he struggled to find the proper response to the colonel’s accusation, but he fell short of finding anything clever to say. All he could think to answer was, “I don’t even know who Washington Irving is!”

“Of course you do,” The colonel answered with a sinister smile spread from ear to ear. “He’s you.”

“But I’m not Washington Irving! I swear, I don’t even know who that is.”

“Of course you don’t know who he is. He isn’t real. He’s a figment of your imagination now isn’t he chaplain?”

“No, he isn’t! I haven’t heard of him until today!”

“Well of course you’ve only heard of him now! This is the first time someone has caught you for it! This is the first time you’ve heard that someone else knows your little scheme.”

A major who was also in the room with them chimed in, “So. Now tell us. Who is he? Who is Washington Irving?”

Yossarian. Washington Irving is Yossarian. Yossarian censored the letter, and it made perfect sense why he wrote what he had written. He had been in the hospital with Dunbar, avoiding missions just as he had done many times throughout his time in Pianosa. Perhaps the day that Yossarian had received that letter to be censored was also the day that he had seen the chaplain for the first time, or maybe it was the day when he had decided to ask the chaplain out on a date. With that letter Yossarian had most likely decided to perform a small gesture, a subtle nod in the direction of romance. He decided to write the kind of message that no one would really understand aside from Yossarian himself, but now the chaplain understood it too. But whether or not the chaplain enjoyed understanding it, he was too afraid to even let himself ponder the answer to that question.

“I don’t know,” the chaplain replied to the officers’ incessant demands. He was still lying, but for some inexplicable reason he had become more confident in the lie than he had previously been.

“You’re lying,” the colonel said.

“I’m not.”

“You’re a man of God, yes?”

“I am.”

“Then swear to Him.”

“Huh?”

“Swear to God that you’re not lying.”

“I swear to that God that I’m not lying.”

“What tells you that swearing to God means anything? Who even knows whether or not God is real?”

“Well, no one knows for sure.”

“So then what does it matter what you swear to God about?”

“I only swore to Him because you wanted me to.”

“So you lied to God. You only swore to Him because you thought I would let you go that easily.”

‘Yes,’ the chaplain wanted to say.

“No,” the chaplain actually said. 

“You’re guilty as sin. Just admit it.”

“I can’t admit anything! I don’t even know what I would be admitting to!”

“Look,” the major chimed in again, “Just say that you’re Washington Irving and this will all be done with.”

“But I’m not! And before you ask, I don’t know who is!”

“I say we arrest him here and now,” the colonel suggested.

“No,” the major replied, shaking his head. “Not yet. Not without a confession.”

“I won’t confess. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Maybe not today,” the major said, “but you will someday, and we’ll all be keeping a close eye on you until that day comes.”

Pretty soon afterward, the chaplain was released from the cellar and back into the real world. Down there underground, alone with those officers, he had gone to assume the worst. At any moment they could've beaten him or worse, killed him. He had been in war for quite some time, but that had been his first brush with the looming threat of death at the hands of another soldier. He felt invigorated, renewed with some new spirit that he had never before believed in. He knew what he had to do; he had to find Yossarian and give Yossarian the honest answer that he should have given back in the hospital.

Through his lies, the chaplain had already committed himself to sin, and it felt good. So what weight did adultery hold now?


	7. Snowden

When Yossarian opened his eyes, Aarfy was gone and the chaplain was there. Yossarian broke into laughter when he spied the chaplain’s cheerful grin and asked him what in the hell he was so happy about.

“I’m happy about you,” the chaplain replied with excited candor and joy. “I heard at Group that you were very seriously injured and that you would have to be sent home if you lived. Colonel Korn said your condition was critical. But I’ve just learned from one of the doctors that your wound is really a very slight one and that you’ll probably be able to leave in a day or two. You’re in no danger. It isn’t bad at all.”

Yossarian listened to the chaplain’s news with enormous relief. “That’s good.”

“Yes,” said the chaplain, a pink flush of impish pleasure creeping into his cheeks. “Yes, that is good.” 

Yossarian laughed, recalling his first conversation with the chaplain. “You know, the first time I met you was in the hospital. And now I’m in the hospital again. Just about the only time I see you lately is in the hospital. Where’ve you been keeping yourself?”

The chaplain figured it best to lie rather than bog Yossarian down with the details of Washington Irving. “I’ve been in my cabin. Praying mostly.”

He noticed that the chaplain was no longer pink and beaming, but Yossarian could not stop smiling. He was happy to be getting off of Pianosa, and he was especially happy that the chaplain had come to visit him. Visits from the chaplain simply had that effect on Yossarian. All of the other men would groan upon seeing him coming to visit the hospital ward because the last thing they felt they needed was a priest to come in and remind them that they were dying and that the consequences of dying were, more often than not, eternal damnation. Not Yossarian though. He never saw the chaplain that way. Maybe Yossarian would have had a different attitude towards the chaplain if he had actually gone to the hospital because he was dying and not because he was pretending to be dying, but something inside told him that even on his deathbed he would be just as ecstatic as ever to see the chaplain. Since the deaths of all of his friends, Yossarian had decided against succumbing to love, but in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to ask the chaplain on another date. If only Dunbar was there to pressure him into doing it.

“What’s that like?” Yossarian inquired. “Praying, I mean.”

“It’s nice, I guess. It helps me clear my head and get my mind off of the things that are troubling me.”

“Well then it is good then, isn’t it?”

The chaplain grinned and his cheeks once again turned that specific shade of pink that they only appeared to turn when Yossarian was talking to him. “Yes,” he laughed. “Yes, that is good.”

Yossarian laughed. “That was funny. When we first met.”

The chaplain buried his face in his hands, clearly embarrassed. He shook his head, which he was still holding in his hands as he replied, “I was so awkward. I hardly knew how to speak to you.”

“And why do you think that was?” Yossarian taunted.

The chaplain smiled at him as he replied, “Because you are without a doubt the strangest person I have ever met.”

Yossarian laughed. “Me? Strange?”

“You’re strange because you’re the only person that makes sense to me. Everyone thinks you’re crazy, but they only think that because you’re the only sane person on this island.”

“You and me both. You and me are the only sane people on this island. Dunbar was sane too and they disappeared him. They’re sending me home, but you still have to watch out. They don’t like people like us here. They don’t like people who aren’t crazy.”

“I think they’re after me. I wasn’t going to say anything about it since you’re doing so well, and I didn’t want you to worry, but they want me gone. They’re accusing me of crimes I haven’t committed just to get rid of me.”

“Those bastards,” Yossarian said under his breath. He then continued in a clear tone, “First they have me make an odious deal. Then they try to do you in as well. Those bastards.”

“What deal?” The chaplain inquired.

“I can’t criticize Colonel Cathcart and Colonel Korn for making everyone fly missions, and they’ll send me home. That was the deal.”

“Well everyone’s been saying they’re sending you home for saving them from that Nazi assassin. That’s why you’re in here now. He could’ve stabbed you to death! Oh, I was so worried for you!”

Yossarian could not help but snicker. “There was no Nazi assassin. Nately’s girlfriend stabbed me, and she wanted nothing to do with Cathcart and Korn.”

The chaplain shook his head and looked at Yossarian with troubled eyes. “I don’t understand. They lied in the report, just to get rid of you? Why, that’s terrible!” The chaplain then lowered his voice, as though the question was too dangerous to even ask aloud, as he asked, “Why are you going through with it?”

“It’s that or a court martial. I can’t go to jail, Chaplain. I have no other choice.”

The chaplain instinctively grabbed Yossarian's hand, which Yossarian was resting by his side on the hospital cot. Since he seemingly could not find the words to say, gestures would have to do the trick.

Yossarian smiled at him sympathetically and reassured, “Don’t worry. I’m not going through with it.”

“But you must!” The chaplain exclaimed, pulling his hand out of Yossarian’s and back towards his own body. “Don’t let me make you think you shouldn’t!”

But it was too late. The chaplain, by no fault of his own, had already convinced Yossarian not to go through with it. Of course, Yossarian did not want the chaplain to think that. After all, the poor man was already enough of a nervous wreck as it was. So, Yossarian almost mocked the chaplain as he explained, “You didn’t change my mind. You really think I want people thinking I saved Colonel Cathcart’s life? I’d die before I had that on my record! I was never going to go through with it.”

“Well then, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll check myself back in the hospital after they let me out. Or, maybe I’ll just go back to flying my missions.”

“But you might get killed flying missions!”

“Then I won’t fly more missions.”

“But then what will you do?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Yossarian’s attempts to console him appeared to have been in vain because the chaplain only appeared more nervous than he was before. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked in a tone that just bordered desperation. “Anything I can get you? Anything at all?”

Yossarian chuckled, “Like what? Like cigarettes or books or toys?”

“I’m serious. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Well,” Yossarian began, “now that you mention it, you could always go out on a date with me. I’d still like that.”

The chaplain’s cheeks turned rosy as he simply shook his head and smiled. He replied candidly, “Oh, I don’t see why we need to go out on a date.”

“Why not?”

“Because as I see it, we’re already sort of on a date right now.” Then, before Yossarian could even think of how to respond, the chaplain got up from his chair, leaned over Yossarian’s cot, and placed a chaste kiss on Yossarian’s lips.

The kiss could not have lasted more than two seconds, but to Yossarian it did not really matter how long the kiss lasted, just that it happened. “I-” he began, not at all knowing what to say.

“Whatever you decide to do, please stay safe,” the chaplain told him before leaving him alone in the hospital.

Yossarian, crushed under the weight of what to do next, could not help but cry a few soft tears into his shoulder. Then, with no desire to think about the future, he swiftly ate dinner and fell asleep.


End file.
